Significant Things
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Sometimes the little things in life take on more importance than you realize, becoming major turning points in your life. Woody and Jordan find this out the hard way.
1. Default Chapter

It was the little things that Jordan remembered the most.  
  
It was these small, seemingly unimportant moments, that were really the most important, Jordan thought, as she sat alone in the back seat of a Boston PD squad car, looking through the car window at the building in front of her. A building that was awash in light at a time of night – or rather early morning – when it should have been dark.  
  
But it was these seemingly little things that had brought her to this place. The need for ibuprofen while working late at the morgue -- working on a fairly simple case, but an overload of hours, exhaustion, and caffeine produced a headache. A headache that Woody tried to relieve by running out to the store on the corner for the medicine. It was an easy task, easily done, and one that would have garnered him her thanks.  
  
But sometimes the most insignificant tasks can take on a tremendous amount of significance, as it had happened this night.  
  
When Woody failed to return in what was a significant amount of time, Jordan had grown worried. Then concerned. This concern had prompted her to contact the policeman on the beat and inquire if anyone had seen Woody. And that was the deed that brought her to where she was now – the back seat of the police car – for the beat cop had discovered that Woody, along with two others, was being held at gun point in the convenience store where he had gone to buy the ibuprofen. The seemingly insignificant task of purchasing pain reliever had placed Woody in significant danger. Jordan had immediately gone to the store, but was unceremoniously put in the back of a squad car to keep her out of the way and out of trouble.  
  
And so now, here she sat, alone, pondering the little things. She rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, wondering and worrying about Woody, totally unaware that inside the store, he was doing the same thing about her. ===================

As Woody sat on the cold, hard floor, with his hands tied behind him and his gun removed from its holster, he thought about her – and the significant place she had in his life. A place no other person could hold. He knew, somehow, when he did not return, she would move heaven and earth to find him. And when she did, she would, unthinkingly, put herself in danger. A significant fact that did not escape his attention.  
  
Keeping himself calm through this ordeal, as well as trying to reassure his fellow hostages, was no small matter either. The robbers-turned-hostage- takers were nervous and strung-out. There was no real way to determine how this situation would end. The only thing that Woody could do was pray that somehow, someway, someone other than Jordan would find him. And the answer to that prayer came when he saw the police pull up to the store. However, he knew who had prompted them to come. And he hoped against hope she had not followed them here. But he could sense her presence through the fear that pervaded the convenience store. She was there. "Just please let her see the significance of staying out of harm's way," he prayed.  
===============================================  
"How you doing, Jordan?" Garrett asked as he got in the backseat of the squad car with her.  
  
"Not so good. They're not telling me anything," she said, nodding at the police.  
  
Garrett knew the wisdom behind this action. Telling Jordan anything about the situation could be the same as turning the proverbial bull loose in the china shop. She may want to try to storm the store herself. "Want me to see what I can find out?" he asked.  
  
Wordlessly, she nodded, never taking her eyes off the building in front of her.  
  
A few minutes later Garrett returned. "There are two armed men and three hostages, including Woody. The men aren't making a lot of sense right now, other than stating a lot of threats if they don't get money and a car."  
  
"So why won't they give it to them?"  
  
"You know why, Jordan." Boston PD did not negotiate with hostage takers, even those that held police against their will.  
  
Garrett reached over and took her hand. "Woody will be fine. They've got the best men, the best snipers, and the best negotiators on this case."  
  
Jordan nodded. And shivered. February was a cold month in Boston. In her haste, she had run out without a jacket. She hadn't been able to get warm since she had been put in the back of the squad car. Garrett removed his coat and wrapped it around her. "It's so cold out here," she thought. "I wonder if Woody is at least comfortable." Warmth. A seemingly insignificant need that was critical for survival.  
  
Her mind drifted back to a few weeks ago when warmth was again important to her. She had not been feeling well for days. After Lily had taken her temperature and discovered it was 102, she was sent home Until you get better," Garrett had said. "We don't need the flu in the office." So she had gone back to her apartment to ride the illness out. Curled up on the couch, watching the home shopping channel, she had passed the hours away, feeling awful and alone. Until that evening.  
  
Armed with flu medication, ginger ale, and chicken noodle soup, Woody had appeared at her door – the unwitting fairy godmother of health. These seemingly insignificant items made her feel better. The flu medicine relieved her symptoms and the ginger ale and soup brought back happier memories of her childhood – foods her parents had fed her when she had been ill as a girl. Seemingly insignificant in themselves, these items brought well-being to her body and soul. But she couldn't get warm. No matter how many blankets, or how thick the sweatshirt, she couldn't get warm.  
  
So with little regard to his own health, Woody had held her all night, pressing his body heat into her by holding her close. She finally quit shivering and fell into a deep sleep. Sleep. A little thing often taken for granted, but so important in recovery. She wondered if Woody was able to rest any in the store. Was he tied up in a chair, on the floor, or standing? He had worked all day. He needed to rest. Jordan shut her eyes. "Just please, dear God, let him be okay."

====================================

Inside the store, Woody tried to continue to assess the situation. Two armed men. No, two armed men that were strung-out on something, he corrected himself. Two other people besides me. A woman and a young teenaged boy. Most likely the woman's son, he thought, noticing the similarities between the two. The worry on the woman's face was visible and the anxiety was palpable. It was easy to see that she would give anything she possessed – her money, her jewelry, her car keys, her life – if these men would just let her son go.  
  
"Parental love," Woody thought. "So unconditional. So monumental. So significant." He thought back to his own parents and the love and support they had proffered him throughout his life, even in his move from Wisconsin to Boston, despite the fact they thought he was making a mistake. Woody had always assumed that one day, he would be a parent. Fatherhood was something in many ways he had looked forward to. But years on the force had taken an edge off the desire. True, he had seen people at their best, but he had also seen more people at their worst. His desire to raise a child in such a world was becoming a bit jaded, at best. At least it was until the Morse case a year ago.  
  
He had answered a domestic call – something homicide detectives don't like to do, but they were short-staffed that evening. He found a woman, badly beaten and shot twice. All too soon, the call changed from a domestic to in fact, a homicide. He had called the morgue and Jordan came to the awful site. While assessing the fatal damage, she had heard a cry from inside the house. Leaving Woody and the woman, she had returned with an infant no more than six months old.  
  
Afraid that Jordan would identify too strongly with the situation, Woody had tried to persuade her to let him call Nigel. "Call Nigel," she had concurred, "Let him deal with the woman. I'll take care of the baby."  
  
That had thrown him for a loop. The last thing that Woody expected to come from Jordan was any type of maternal instincts. He had been wrong. In short order she had changed the baby's clothes, diapered its other end, and had sought out bottles in the refrigerator. Holding the child on the way back to his office, she had fed the infant and quieted its crying. Slightly stunned at the transformation that had occurred, Woody had watched as Jordan cuddled the baby on the couch in his office. In the myriad of details that had to accompany the murder and apprehension of the victim's husband, social services hadn't been called until hours later. Woody had found Jordan and the baby curled up on the couch, asleep, his suit coat spread over the both of them. Looking at the two, the stray thought had crossed his mind, "What if they were mine?" As quickly as it came, it left, for the social service worker arrived. But still, from time to time since then, he had pictured Jordan with a baby – his child, their child. A typical homicide situation – if there was such a thing – turned into a significant point in his life. He sighed, wondering now if any of that could fit in his future.


	2. The next eight hours

Jordan squinted at the sun, now beginning its ascent over the city of Boston. Eight hours. Woody had been in that store eight hours. The negotiators had talked with the robbers several times. They had not relented on their demands. Indeed, they had grown more threatening. FBI snipers were being put into place.  
  
Somehow the media had learned of the situation and it was quickly becoming a circus. Jordan could see the television trucks and numerous reporters from the back seat of the squad car. She could hear their helicopters buzz in the air. In the midst of all of this chaos, she saw Nigel. He was talking with the officer in charge. Making his way over to her, he opened the car door and slid in beside her, pulling her into a hug.  
  
"How you doing, love?" A gentle inquiry, but one Jordan had heard too many times in the last several hours.  
  
"Not good Nigel. I know the police and everyone are doing their best, but it's not good enough."  
  
Nigel pulled her closer. "He's going to be okay. You've just got to give them time. Woody's a smart guy. If he can figure a way out of this, he will."  
  
Jordan nodded.  
  
"Want to get out of this squad car and walk a bit? Maybe get some breakfast? Some coffee?" Nigel's voice echoed the concern of some of the police officers. Jordan hadn't budged since she arrived at the crime scene.  
  
"No. Sure as I leave something will happen. I'm not hungry, but coffee would be great."  
  
Nigel slid out of the car and went to fulfill her request.  
  
Hunger. Another significant need. Jordan sat back and stretched her legs as much as she could, thinking back to the first time Woody had cooked her supper at her apartment. Spaghetti. They were working on the SickBoy23 case at the time. As a matter of fact, it was one of the first cases they were on together and it turned out to be a pretty sick S&M experience. At the time, she hadn't been so impressed with Woody, but she was with his cooking. A slight smile crossed her face. It was during that case he wormed his way into her heart.  
  
She was posting an e-mail, hoping to lure the perpetrator into their trap. Woody had helped with the e-mail while cooking his "famous" spaghetti sauce. Bringing some over to Jordan for her to sample, she had to agree – it was really good. But that wasn't the only thing simmering that night. Underneath the working atmosphere in her apartment was the beginning of a very subtle sexual tension bubbling between the two. She knew it and so did he. She had walked him to her door when he got ready to leave, knowing for certain he wanted to kiss her good night and knowing for certain she wanted him to. But the reply email from SickBoy23 had interrupted the moment. Woody left her apartment quickly, to set up the trap. She had gone unkissed, but the sexual tension between the two had been kicked into second gear. Indeed, it was now running in third or fourth and sometimes in overdrive. A significant fact, for sure.  
  
"Here you go love," Nigel said, as he slid back in the backseat of the car, handing her a Venti Starbucks. "This should keep you pumped for a while. It has a double shot of expresso."  
==================================================  
His back aching from sitting on the floor all night, Woody made an attempt to stretch the kinks out of it without drawing attention from his captors. If it had just been him in the store, he would have long ago tried to escape. But he couldn't put the woman and her son in jeopardy. So he was waiting it out – waiting for his fellow policemen to force his captors' hands.  
  
Woody had always wanted to be a cop – from the time he was a young boy. He had never wavered from the desire. The lure of working in a seemingly adventurous position held his interest. Guns, car chases, catching the bad guys – these were all part of the job description that kept him going. What the job description didn't include was working with a "hot" ME like Jordan.  
  
The attraction between them had been strong, from the beginning. But he had nearly counted himself out when he saw the way an assistant DA was looking at her. However, the gods were working in his favor that day. She was chewing the DA out. Woody still didn't know what the guy had done, but was eternally grateful the DA had screwed up. It left the door wide open for him.  
  
He could also remember the exact minute he had decided to try to walk through that door. It was during the S&M case. He, Jordan, and the police had set the trap for the alleged perp at the Pogue. Jordan was going to be the bait – a fact he wasn't comfortable with, but was overridden by her – not for the last time. When she showed up at the bar and took off her coat, that was it for him. Clad in a low-cut red dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up to her thigh, Woody reacted like a typical male. He nearly howled with desire. The only thing that had restrained him was that Jordan's father, Max, was sitting with him. If Jordan had any idea how many times she showed up in that red dress in his dreams, he was sure that she would blush. A significant fact for him...that he had fallen for a woman that was as beautiful as she was smart.  
  
Woody glanced at the clock on the store wall and sighed, wondering just how long it would be until he could hold her again.

=======================================

"Okay, Dr. Cavanaugh, we need you to get out of the car and move away from the store. We have snipers in place and we don't need you anywhere near the possible line of fire," the senior officer at the scene told her.  
  
Typically, Jordan dug in her heels. She wasn't going anywhere, thank you very much.  
  
"Dr. Cavanaugh, we can't do anything else until you move. And the longer this thing goes on, the worse it could get. Please. Just move into the police station – it's just right across the street."  
  
"Come on, Jo. You know you have to. You can watch and wait from there. And you'll probably be more comfortable," Garrett said. He had remained with her from the early morning hours. It was now past noon. The police had the roads blocked around the store. Negotiations were not going well. The FBI snipers had been placed on the surrounding roofs.  
  
"I'm not going. At least until the police will see if they will let me talk to Woody."  
  
Garrett conferred with the officers. "Okay, Jo. They're going to see if the robbers will let Woody come to the phone."  
  
A few minutes later, a phone was placed in Jordan's hand. "Keep it brief and to the point," the officer said. "And no funny stuff. It could endanger everyone's lives."  
  
"Woody?"  
  
"Yeah, Jo, I'm right here."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Woody laughed. "As well as can be expected, given the circumstances."  
  
"I'm right outside..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"They're making me move across the street – I can't talk long."  
  
"We'll talk when this thing is over."  
  
Jordan swallowed hard. No one knew when and how this situation was going to end. The possible outcome was not one she wanted to think about. It could have significant consequences. "Please be careful. Don't do anything ...." She didn't want to say stupid, but Woody knew what she was trying to say.  
  
"I know...don't do anything that could get me hurt."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Jordan, if anything happens to me, the internal affairs lawyer has all my stuff ..."  
  
"Don't talk like that," Jordan said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. "Everything's going to be fine."  
  
"I've got to go now, Jo."  
  
"I love you, Woody."  
  
"I know."  
  
And the line went dead.


	3. You have my heart, don't break it

The police station was at least warm and the officers were at least polite and understanding to her as she paced back and forth in front of the doors. Garrett and Nigel were both still with her. As best she could ascertain, the officers were trying one last round of negotiations, and then the FBI snipers would do their job. Heart in her throat, Jordan watched the unfolding situation.  
  
"Jordan, don't you want something to eat?" Nigel asked. She hadn't eaten since the day before.  
  
"No Nige, I'm okay. I think it would only make me sick."  
  
Funny how bad events could possibly forever alter the day-to-day insignificant things in life such as eating. Like the Montgomery case. That was another time Jordan feared she might loose her young detective.  
  
Did he kill her or didn't he kill her...for days Jordan had doggedly sought the answer. In her heart-of-hearts, she knew Woody wasn't capable, that there was no way he could have restrained the young girl tightly enough to break her rib. But the fear she saw in his eyes when she entered the interrogation room that night to process the body was terrifying. She had felt it in her soul. She knew then that if she lost him, she herself would be just as lost. A significant fact for Jordan Cavanaugh, who repeatedly pushed people away if they got too close. Until that point, she had taken for granted working with Woody nearly every day.  
  
The relief she had felt when he was exonerated was indescribable. When he had walked into the Pogue and announced he was cleared, she had wanted to take him away somewhere and just hold him. Instead, she danced with him, allowing him to hold her in front of her father and everyone else – probably the most public display of affection she had ever allowed any man. And even though at times they would fight like cats and dogs, she never again took for granted being with this man.  
  
And she never wanted to live without him – ever. God, when was this going to be over?

==================================================  
Woody had heard the catch in Jordan's voice despite her effort to cover it up. The lady tried to show a hard shell on the outside, but Woody had often called her a marshmallow to her face. "You're not as tough as you want everyone to think," he said. "Inside, you're a softie – just as bad as me."  
  
She had bristled under this accusation. "Am not!" she declared. "I just choose which cases bother me, the rest I let go of."  
  
"And when was the last time you let go of any case?" he replied.  
  
She was quiet as she thought that one through... "Well..."  
  
"Point proven," he had said.  
  
And she was "softie." He had seen it in the way she cared about the victims that entered the morgue – becoming their voice for justice because they could no longer speak. He had seen it in the way she cared for the grieving -- never forgetting how she felt as she dealt with her own grief. The hard, outer shell she had built around herself was her own way of dealing with all the hurt that life had handed her at the tender age of ten. A significant fact that made Jordan, Jordan.  
  
He had felt her care and concern first hand. While the road to their romance had been bumpy, at times tenuous, he knew he could count on her compassion if he needed, no matter what the circumstances between them. He could feel it when he held her as they danced. He had felt it in their first kiss in the California desert.  
  
Despite the fact that she had immediately backed away from her feelings, and declared the kiss to be no big deal, he knew better. There was significantly more emotion in that kiss than she wanted to admit. And the next time he kissed her, it felt like the earth literally moved under his feet.  
  
And now she was trying so hard to be strong for him and he knew that inside she was falling to pieces. He wanted so badly to hold her and reassure her. He had struggled to try to find something to say to her on the phone to comfort her, but knowing the police and the robbers were listening made it less than personal.  
  
Woody shut his eyes. When this was over, he was going to take her away somewhere – just the two of them. Alone. For a week, at least. Maybe two.  
========================================  
Jordan continued to pace the halls of the police station. By this time, Max had joined her as well. After conferring with an old friend, he came over to her. "Jor," he said. "They've ended negotiations. They've put the snipers in place and are telling them to be ready to go at it as soon as the signal is given."  
  
Max watched his daughter stiffen at these words. "No," she said. "Not yet. Have they tried everything? Isn't there some other way...."  
  
"They've been negotiating for over twelve hours now, baby. If the captors were going to release the hostages, they would have done it before now."  
  
Jordan had grown up with cops and then had worked with them as a ME. She knew the routine. Tear gas to drive them out. When they're out, ask them to surrender. If they don't, shoot. Usually all goes well. Usually no innocent victims or bystanders get hurt. Usually. Significant odds, at best, she thought.  
  
It was significant odds that she and Woody got together at all. After a couple of years of holding the young detective at arms length, only in the recent months had she relented and began to "date" him, although she refused to call it "dating." "Relationships are not my strong point," she had warned him. "Don't be too surprised if you are disappointed in me and want out. I would certainly understand." Woody had just shot her a look of pure incredulousness.  
  
So they began to see each other outside of work and meeting at the Pogue. She thought she knew him well, but realized that there was a side of her friend she didn't know existed. And that was the side as a lover. Her lover. Hers.  
  
Jordan had relationships before, but this time sex was couched in a different equation. "It's not going to be 'just sex' with us," he told her. "When it happens, it will be making love in every sense of the word." That was a new one for Jordan. Significantly different. He had been patient. He hadn't rushed her into it. He allowed her to be comfortable with the new aspect of their relationship before letting her make the decision to go farther. He had been kind, thinking of her and what she needed before himself. He had been strong and gentle and passionate, all at the same time. Sex was no longer an act that led to a state of sated satisfaction, but an act that demonstrated caring and concern, and well – love.  
  
She rubbed for forehead, wondering when and if, she would be able to be in his arms again. It should be soon...shouldn't it?

===============================================

Woody was more than aware of what was going on outside. He knew the police were not going to let this situation drag on indefinitely. He hoped to persuade his captors to let the woman and her son go, and just keep him. The tear gas, even though meant for the robbers, would affect them all.  
  
"Hey, let them go," he said to the men, motioning to the woman and her son with his head. "I'm a cop. They're less likely to open fire on you with me as a shield. They won't want the media attention of possibly putting one of their own in harm's way."  
  
The men shook their heads no.  
  
"Then at least let the boy go."  
  
On this point they relented. They opened the door of the store and the teen ran to the safety of the police and his father.  
  
Woody smiled grimly to himself. The woman looked at Woody, both grateful and relieved. At least that made the situation significantly better -- one of them was out of harm's way.  
  
He had tried to keep Jordan out of harm's way so many times. Not just with cases, where she tended to become more involved than most ME's, but from herself and the people around her that would hurt her. The quest for her mother's killer had put her in danger more times than he would like to remember. Hell, he had chased her across the United States, from Boston to California, even killed a man, in order to keep her safe.  
  
He had gotten to the point where he never thought she would reward him for his efforts. But one day, out of the blue, she did. They were working on yet another case together. She was in his office and they were eating lunch while reviewing the case. Files, folders, and papers were strewn everywhere – the top of his desk, the chairs, the couch. They had to sit on the floor to eat and to review the evidence. Finally, leaning back against the couch, he had asked her point blank, where she thought the case would lead. Jordan had shook her head and said it was really too early to tell. Then she had reached over and slowly ran her fingers down the side of his face, stopping at his tie. "Where do you think this will lead, Woody?" she had asked.  
  
Used to her teasing, he had replied, "Probably nowhere, as much as it pains me to admit it."  
  
"Would you like it to lead somewhere?"  
  
He did. More than anything he had wanted it to lead to her, but not just her body. He wanted the whole package – her heart, her soul, the whole Jordan. "Yes, but probably not where you think I want it to lead."  
  
Puzzled, Jordan had raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Jordan, I want you...all of you. Not just your body, as hot as it is ... I want your heart. And I know you don't want to give that away, because you don't feel you can trust anyone. But you can trust me. I swear. You can. I won't leave. I won't break it."  
  
Jordan had opened her mouth to reply when her cell phone rang. Woody's rang right after. They both knew what that meant – a homicide. Leaving the room in haste, the conversation had been curtailed, but not forgotten, by either one.  
  
The next morning, when Woody went to open the door to his office, he noticed a package sitting outside. A package wrapped in purple paper and tied with pink bow. "Guess who?" was written on the outside. He didn't have to guess. He had recognized the handwriting. It was from Jordan.  
  
Curious, he had set the package down on his desk and proceeded to open it. Inside, nestled in lavender tissue, was a fragile, glass heart. The note inside had said "It breaks easily, so please be careful, but if you want it, it's all yours." He had literally ran to her office and swept her up in a hug. "I swear to you," he declared, "it's safe with me."  
  
For the first time, he had seen Jordan cry. Really cry. He had seen her shed tears over her mother and over Max after he left. But this time, she cried over him. Tears of happiness, she had said.  
  
He wondered how many tears she had cried since he left to go to the store.


	4. It's over

From the doors of the police station, Jordan watched the snipers position themselves and heard the police move in. She didn't like the odds. Since the young man had run from the store, no more had been heard from the captors. They were not replying.  
  
"Please drop your weapons and exit the store," a loud, firm voice said over a bull horn. "If you come out now, no one will get hurt."  
  
A gun shot rang out and the glass door of the store shattered. The door opened and the two captors appeared, one with the woman and the other with Woody.  
  
"No, no, no, it's not supposed to happen this way," Jordan said to her father.  
  
Outside, Woody could hear the snipers' weapons click. They had taken aim. He could see the outline of some of them against the cold, Boston sky. He needed to try to position himself in front of the woman and her captor. That way he could avert the fire away from an innocent civilian. He began to struggle with the man, deliberately pulling himself in the line of fire.  
  
Jordan could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Before anyone could stop her, she was out the door and running towards the scene, only to be pulled back down behind a squad car.  
  
Then suddenly, it was over. Another shot echoed. The man holding Woody dropped. A single bullet. To the throat. Woody made a mental note to find out who fired the gun and buy that person a round of drinks.  
  
The man holding the woman abruptly pushed her to the sidewalk and tried to run. Another shot rang out.  
  
And the deed was done. The hostage situation was over. A significant afternoon for the Boston Police Department.  
  
The police began to clear the area and Jordan could see Nigel and Garrett move in to remove the bodies of the robbers. She slowly rose from behind the squad car and tried to make her way over to Woody. He was surrounded by officers and paramedics. Slowly, she walked over to the front of the store.  
  
The crowd around Woody parted for her to get through. For a few moments they just stood there, looking at each other. Woody saw Jordan sag from the weight of the day and the worry over the situation. Immediately, his arms were around her and she nestled close to his neck. "It's okay, Jo, it's over, it's over," he repeated. He was not quite sure if he was saying it more for him than her.  
  
And it was over. Except for a few bruises around his wrist where he was tied up too tightly, and a few kinks in his back from sitting on the cold, hard floor all night, it was over.  
  
"Hey, next time you need ibuprofen, how about asking Nigel or Garrett if they have some?" he said, trying to joke with her a little, to get her out of the frightened state she still hovered in.  
  
Pulling away from him, to look into those blue eyes she had missed so much, she simply nodded. He hugged her back tightly to him and kissed the top of her head. The joke seemed to work, for he felt the tension leave her body. A small thing. A joke. An insignificant thing, in the great scheme of life. But then again, it's the little things that can have the most significance. 


End file.
